


SCRATCH

by 50mg



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Gen, Mental Breakdown, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50mg/pseuds/50mg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an itch in Will's head and his hands aren't quite up to the task of dealing with it, but he has to do something, because- </p>
<p>There's an itch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SCRATCH

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not sure where this came from. Diverges from canon at an unnamed point in season one.

Will sweats through the sheets and screams in his sleep and sleepwalks till his feet are red with gore, the heavy ache of fever ever-present, but it's the itching that's unbearable. It started slow and subtle in his head, a vague sense of doubt for his ability to work (to function at all, and really, he was just afraid for his sanity). He can more or less ignore it- he hasn't ever been fully stable and the dogs are ok and aspirin takes care of the pain-

But then it gets worse.

The killers have always been scratching at his mind and sense of self, so Garret Jacob Hobbs is more unpleasant than surprise, but the stag, that nightmare beast- the click of its hooves echoes in his mind, pinging from one end of his skull to the other, pounding harder and harder until he can barely restrain himself from reaching around his eye or into his ear to claw out the sound. None of this scares Will. What does scare him is that hideous click-click-clicking (and it's not even there all the time, but he's tempted to go for a preemptive strike and boy, isn't that a thought?). 

So he tells Hannibal.

Hannibal tells him it's stress. Will stares at him. When Hannibal continues to smile placidly he tries to leave, but his fingers are shaking too hard to open the door. When Hannibal asks Will why he's just standing there Will shows him his hands, frightened, but Hannibal just purses his lips and says that Will's nails need trimming but that he can't see any movement. Hannibal is as polite as ever, though, so he opens the door for Will even though their session isn't over. 

Will is at home. He doesn't remember driving there. The dogs are whining for food, but all Will can hear is the grating quality to their yips and it gives him a headache. He feeds them, but they continue to howl, higher and higher until it feels like his head will explode. He can feel the physical ache and it- there's an itch. 

A mosquito lands on his arm. He watches it bite him (he lets it bite him). The dogs are still howling and there's an itch. Will smiles. 

This is an itch he can scratch. 

He scratches and scratches and scratches until his nails are blunted into uselessness by the skin caked under them. His arm is dripping blood and he can see muscle in some places. His arm is fine now, but-

There's an itch. 

It's all over, Will realizes. Every part of his body is screaming out at him. Will looks at his hands. His nails are long, but they're useless after the first arm. What to do...?

The stag clicks into the house, straight through the wall, and Will screams at it. He can hardly bear the itching as it is and he doesn't need more of it now- but the stag stops, watches him, click-click-clicks over to the kitchen, where there's-

Will doesn't know why, but the stag wants to help, though there's no medicine when he stumbles over, but- there is a potato peeler in the sink. The stag huffs at it. 

It doesn't really work. Large strips of skin litter the floor around Will, and the dogs whine around him, licking furiously. The stag huffs again, disappointed. It looks around the kitchen once more before it click-click-clicks off to Will's fishing desk. The ache in his head is worse than ever, and he's desperately tired for some reason, so it takes him a few minutes to crawl over. The stag noses at some of his flies. 

Will tells it that those won't work. They're too small. They won't go deep enough. The real itch, the one that will make all the others go away, is in his skull. The stag considers his point before lowering its head. 

It wants to gore him. Will looks at the tines facing him. They're sharp and he's pretty sure they'll do the job. They can scratch the itch. An absurd bubble of laughter spills out of Will. The stag can help fix the problem it created in the first place! But they have to act quickly, because Will isn't sure he can bear another second of this itching. Will stands with some difficulty while the stag positions itself. Blood pools at his feet, his ruined flesh hanging off of him in chunks.

The stag charges. 

Scratch. Then there's no itch.


End file.
